blink
by SongofThunder
Summary: SPOILERS FOR KINGDOM OF ASH AHEAD One for yes. Two for no. Three for "Are you alright?" Four for "I am here, I am with you." Five for "This is real, you are awake. Six for "Liar." (in which Fenrys and Aelin find comfort in each other without speaking a word)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: SPOILERS AHEAD!** **LOTS OF SPOILERS!**

 **Anyways, guess who finished Kingdom of Ash? That's right. Your favorite (or not, I won't hold it against you) fanfic author!  
I realized my fic "and I can do nothing but watch" (which I didn't post on Tumblr, but it IS on Ao3) isn't exactly canon-compliant anymore. So I took it upon myself to write another because Fenrys and Aelin have the best friendship.**

* * *

Fenrys knew Maeve was tiring.

Not of torturing Aelin- no, Queen Maeve of the Fae, ruler of Doranelle, could watch her scream for hours.

But of losing time. Of spending every waking hour by Aelin's side.

Maeve had a country to rule; he supposed he could respect her for keeping it safe.

Now the coffin was in Doranelle, and now one of his orders was to remain as a wolf. On top of the ones to stay. To be still. To watch.

A wolf's mouth could not speak. A wolf's mouth could not whisper small comforts to Princess Aelin when he heard her shaking in the iron coffin.

(But when had he ever had the time to do that anyways? She was always screaming or asleep or he was being watched, and now that she was out, now that she spent much of her time chained to the pedestal they used to torture her rather than in that coffin, with that mask, he had no ability to tell her.)

She tugged futilely at the chains, in a silent answer he tugged at his own. As with everything Maeve, both held firm, the physical and mental constraints impeccable.

She shut her eyes and twisted slightly. Embarrassed. Afraid.

Not afraid. Fenrys had seen fear. Eons of fear. And she had none.

What she looked like was... hopelessness. A female downed and with nothing to raise her up.

Fenrys barked once, hating it was all the sound he could make.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Aelin lifted her gaze to his.

She held him without laying a single finger upon his fur, her turquoise eyes powerful, the fiery ring around the pupils blazing.

The face of a queen.

But then she sagged, then her eyes went dull, and it was the face of a queen no longer, but the face of a broken teenager promised a home and left with a prison.

That was what she was, wasn't it?

This woman had done unspeakable things, had allied with kings and fought battles, had circled all of Doranelle with her flame.

This woman was nineteen years old. Too young to have to be with any of this.

Fenrys leapt up, he had seen death before and she couldn't die, not now, not now, but Aelin Ashryver Galathynius only faced the White Wolf with empty, dead eyes.

She spoke quietly, her voice rusty from disuse. "Was it real?"

The torture. Most recently Cairn had broken each of her limbs, had used the small, sharp knife to make art on her skin, painted with her blood, set with cuts and burns and bruises.

But none of it remained. Aelin's limbs had been smoothed over with magic until they were pristine. Untouched.

A slow blink; the only answer he could give. Yes.

"One for yes," she whispered, and spoke no more.


	2. Chapter 2

She was asleep.

Asleep on her own, without the smoke. Breathing peacefully.

He watched her warily; he wanted some sleep of his own, but he didn't want to leave her here, should she awaken.

She was here, she was trapped. But that didn't mean she had to be alone.

She would never be, not if he could help it. A silent trade from day one in Doranelle- never leave the other without comfort.

Tiny, quiet breaths from her- when was the last time she had rested in a slumber not smoke-induced?

She stirred, and every instinct started screaming.

She halted where the iron wouldn't let her move.

A tug before her unconscious mind realized she was chained.

A whimper. He tried to move. Could not.

And then she started to scream.

He knew by now no amount of calling for her would wake her. No amount of crying her name. It would only serve to punish them both.

No, better to let her wake up on her own. No matter how much it hurt, how much he wanted to scream, or sob-

Her eyes snapped open, and the iron coffin shook. Did she know her own power, did she know how much the coffin threatened to move, if only an inch?

He doubted it. And he wasn't about to be the one to give her false hope.

She turned her head once, muffled cries through the mask. Twice.

Wild-eyed and panicked, she began. "Did he-"

That haunted look in her Ashryver eyes, whatever she had seen or felt-

He leapt up from where he kneeled, shook his head wildly.

She didn't look convinced.

Again.

Again.

Until the air vibrated with his unspoken promise. _No. No. No._

She relaxed finally, and only then did he add his final signal. He barked twice.

"Two," she breathed, an agreement.

He blinked twice, slowly, delicately.

She blinked back, a single time, and did not open again.


	3. Chapter 3

Fenrys couldn't sleep.

Recently it had gotten worse. Cairn was pushing his limits.

It had taken a week for the healers to fully repair the damage he had done.

And when Aelin woke up, it was all gone.

She'd cried only once, and he had seen the embarrassment in her face.

She stopped after that. And she only glared at Cairn each time he began with that knife.

Screams, like there had been for… Months? Years? Days?

Screams, but no tears. Even as she shook with confusion and terror.

He couldn't watch this. Not for much longer.

He wanted to shut his eyes sometimes. Cover his ears.

But he made a silent promise, that he'd be there.

So he kept watching, even when sometimes it was so loud he had to grit his teeth.

Tonight, though, Aelin was chained to the outside of the coffin to sleep in the night air. Cairn was probably testing out his knives on some other unwilling prisoner. Or spending the night drinking in one of Doranelle's many taverns. She watched him with her Ashryver eyes, dead as always. And Fenrys had one night, a single night, to sleep alone. Peacefully.

Without Maeve.

It should have felt like freedom. But every passing second he could hear Aelin's ragged breathing and remember that any scrap of freedom he had was false, and only a facade to cover the fact that he was still imprisoned. They both were.

Aelin glanced at him. Shook her head. Coughed once. Her way of saying _I don't feel like talking tonight. Go to sleep._

He met her gaze. _Wake me if something happens._

He closed his eyes, head on his paws, not even needing to hear, or see, her answer.

She could tap her foot and awaken him. He wondered if this young queen knew how thoroughly she had him wrapped around her finger.

Breathe.

In, out. In, out. A methodical rhythm, until it lulled him into a doze.

How long he managed to sleep without dreams, he had no idea.

Perhaps he had been dreaming- perhaps he simply remembered nothing.

Then, a tentative voice, snapping him out of his slumber.

"Fenrys?"

He lifted his head, blinked the sleep from his eyes only once. _Yes?_

Her voice was ragged and throaty and she winced clearly while speaking; he could barely imagine how dry or scraped her throat must be, if it caused her so much pain.

"Are you alright?" Barely more than a whisper; she grimaced.

What had she seen that made her wake him up? Had he been gritting his teeth, or growling, or had he been contorted in pain?

One blink. _Yes._

She shook her head, he took a guess at her words. _You lie._

She was right, but Fenrys kept his face expressionless. _Yes. Yes. Yes._

"Answer me honestly," she murmured. "Are you alright?" And she blinked three times in response. _Are you alright?_

 _Are you alright_ , he tested out.

He thought for a moment. He missed them all. Gavriel. Rowan. Even Lorcan, that bastard. And of course Connall. He missed being free. Being able to run without fear of Maeve tugging the leash. He missed the days where the Queen of Terrasen wasn't trapped here with him.

Then he met her gaze. A single blink. One blink for _yes._

She sighed, and looked away, her way of saying _Lie._

Only after she averted her eyes did he add another blink, two blinks for _no._


	4. Chapter 4

The moment he entered the room, Aelin blinked at him from where she kneeled, chained to the pedestal.

One. Two. Three. _Are you alright?_

That was their new routine. One asked the question. The other answered. Switch roles. Repeat until the day's… exercise, for lack of a better word, began. Sometimes they lied, sometimes they didn't. But it didn't matter, because they both knew that no matter what happened, whether they lied and said yes or whether Lady Luck shone upon them that day and they were able to sleep, the underlying answer that hung over both their heads would always be no. There was never anything that was able to overcome the fact that they were both in a gilded, golden prison that held in both their screams. Silent or otherwise.

They asked anyways. Neither of them had anything better to do.

Aelin asked again, silently, pleadingly. _Are. You. Alright._ Fenrys hadn't even realized he was lost in thought. But Aelin had seen.

 _No._

He didn't feel like lying today.

 _Are you?_

Aelin hesitated. _No._

It looked like neither did she.

He stared her down, doing his best not to falter. She stared him back, and a ghost of a wry smile crossed her face. _So this is how we're playing today, is it?_

A slight shrug from him. _I suppose so._ Fenrys focused on her eyes, despite how much it hurt to see how dead they were. She grimaced, as if realizing how she looked, how both of them looked, but she glared back.

That was how they remained, each anchored to this world by the sheer will of the other, until Cairn finally entered the room.

* * *

He knew she was tired. He knew that she needed at least a few days of rest. He knew from the way she shook and cried out before the small blade had even seen the light of day.

And still he could do nothing. Could only stand there and growl, as tall as possible, and refuse to lie down and be cowed. And Cairn would never try it on him, anyway.

(He did once, but not only did Fenrys refuse to scream, Maeve was furious that he was cut at all. Cairn stuck to Aelin after that.)

Aelin's voice had already grown hoarse- she truly was tired, if she couldn't muster up the energy to scream, only to writhe.

The clearing was quieter. Fenrys didn't know if that was better or worse.

Aelin turned her head, and her eyes landed on him.

What could he say, what could he do-

There were a hundred things he wanted to do. He wanted to take a cannon and raze Doranelle to the ground. (It had been home, once, but never again. Not anymore.) He wanted to shift back and run and punch that bastard into the wall. And then leave him alive only because it was Rowan's job to exact revenge.

But in the end, there was only one thing he had left.

He blinked four times.

She went still.

They would speak of this later. They would decide on what exactly it meant.

But for now Fenrys kept blinking. One. Two. Three. Four. Wait. Repeat.

Because it calmed Aelin, and it seemed to dull the pain, if only a little. Because as long as Aelin kept his eyes on him, she kept breathing.

Small comforts, he supposed, were better than none.

* * *

They'd healed her, but it had taken much longer than usual. Perhaps because Aelin fought to stay awake for half of it, and perhaps because she was clearly fighting to wake up for the other half.

And the moment they disappeared, she succeeded, and snapped her eyes open.

He'd laid down for the entire healing, but he jumped up now. What was she doing, she needed every bit of sleep she could get-

Fenrys froze when she said the first word. "Are-" She coughed. Too much screaming. Too little water. "-you-" She took a deep breath. "here?"

 _Are you alright?_

She shook her head; she wanted him to answer the question. Of course she would want to know whether he was real.

He didn't hesitate. _Yes_. Absolutely, yes.

"With-" She cried out at the word.

 _Stop speaking! Can't you see it's hurting you?_

"-me?"

 _Yes._ Four blinks. _I am here, I am with you._

"Even- after?"

She let the question linger in the air. Neither of them dared say (or blink) a word.

By the time he'd sorted out his thoughts and gathered the strength to respond, she was already gone.


End file.
